


Model Behavior

by Hoodoo



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Beetlejuice doesn't have the experiences to cope, Feelings, First Kiss, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Kissing, M/M, Men Crying, Mild Language, Musical based but references to the movie, Relationship Discussions, Surprise Kissing, Understanding, he's trying, unexpected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: Adam and Barbara Maitland have settled into the fact that they are kind of stuck with Beetlejuice, and have gotten more comfortable with him around. So comfortable in fact, that Adam surprises himself.
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Adam Maitland, Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland
Comments: 28
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A small rp between the incomparable [turtlepated](https://turtlepated.tumblr.com/) and myself: a character study between Adam and Beetlejuice.

Bored and looking for trouble, Beetlejuice sidled up to the only other male ghost in the house. “Good to see you again, Sexy. Your, ah, wife-–Babs-–the old ball and chain–-she around anywhere? Wanna show me your _models?_ I bet your hands are real strong and you have lots of dexterity …!”

He shouldn’t startle as much as he did, but Adam yelped involuntarily as Beetlejuice appeared out of nowhere behind him too close for comfort. He cleared his throat, to try to play it off like it was nothing. 

“Oh, Barbara’s probably downstairs with Lydia in the dark room. Did you want to see the model? I just got in some nice wainscoting! It’s perfectly to-scale and it’ll look great on the house!” He frowned as he processed what was actually said, examining his own hands and flexing his fingers “Dexterity? I suppose so?”

With a Cheshire Cat grin, Beetlejuice left him without another word, for Adam to ponder over the brief interaction.

⁂

“Adam? Sexy? Where are you?! You were going to show me your . . . model!”

“I’m up in the attic!” the ghost replied automatically, then paused, with a double take that turned suspicious. “Why did you say ‘model’ like that?”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Sexy. I just really like to watch your hands work. They’re so nimble and so careful, and you’re so attentive when you’re working. I like your focus.”

Adam smiled and couldn’t help but relax and preen a bit. “Well, I … that is, thank you, Beetlejuice. I don’t like to brag, but I do take a lot of pride in my work. You can help, if you’d like. Lydia said they’re restoring some of the more run-down parts of downtown, so I’m redoing the buildings. Want to get in on the action?”

Oh. He wasn’t expecting that! 

“I-I-I don’t know, Adam,” Beetlejuice replied, backpedaling a bit. “I’ve never done anything like that, I don’t want to mess up anything …”

Beetlejuice looked at his hands, with the grime and chipped black nails, then shoved them into his pockets, ashamed.

Adam tutted good-naturedly, “Nonsense, there’s nothing to it, really! The models are built, so really I’m just repainting the exteriors. You could manage that, don’t you think? And if you need help, I’d be happy to oblige!”

This sounded less and less like a good idea. 

“I don’t … I’ll just mess it up,” he repeated, quietly. He stared at the model so he didn’t have to look at the man who seemed excited about the help. “I’ve seen the tiny paint brushes you use, and I know how expensive the paints can be because you so kindly told me about it when I drank one, remember? I think it’d be best if I just … didn’t.”

He gave a quick, tight smile at the memory of coming upstairs to see Beetlejuice chugging the small jar of paint like a shot. He wasn’t used to seeing the specter so … unexpectedly withdrawn, but rather than press him about it he simply shrugged. 

“That’s perfectly fine. If you’d rather just watch, you’re welcome to.”

This was _not_ how he’d expected this to go. Beetlejuice pursed his lips, and wondered if he should just leave. Maybe he could come back later and leave all this 'painting the model’ stuff behind. But a sudden thought came to him. 

“What if you helped me? You know, how people show other people how to swing a golf club, or play pool?”

Adam blinked once, twice, processing the query and all the connotations. 

“You mean like … you hold the brush, I hold your wrist and show you how to use it?”

Shockingly, surprisingly, the idea of it didn’t appall him. Far from it, maybe? All his interactions with the self proclaimed bio-exorcist had been … _one-sided,_ to put it politely. Beetlejuice was obviously a sponge for all forms of attention, and in the absence of freely given positive attention he made do with whatever he could get by any means necessary. 

“Well, hang on,” he said, stopping the specter, who’d turned to leave, in his tracks. “We can give it a try, see how it goes. It’s fiddly work, so maybe a helping hand would be better." 

To cement his point, Adam took on of the fine bristled brushes and dipped it into the small pot of paint, holding the handle out invitingly towards Beetlejuice.

He blinked, owlishly, at the offered brush. He never expected his ridiculous suggestion to be taken seriously, and now … he discovered he did want to try. With Adam’s help, of course. He gave a quick nod and took the wooden handle of the brush. 

"If you want Jackson Pollock, I can definitely do that. Anything else, and you’re going to have to help,” he reminded him.

Adam took a step back, allowing Beetlejuice to approach the work table, chuckling at the half-hearted joke. 

“You’ll do just fine,” he assured the demon, stepping up a little closer behind him. “Keep a light hold on the brush, like you’re holding a pencil." 

Beetlejuice adjusted his fingers but the grip still wasn’t quite there, so Adam reached forward, tentative at first to make a few changes to the set of the brush in his grasp. 

"There now, we’re ready to go! Don’t think about it too hard, you just want gentle strokes, just to get the paint where you want it." 

He demonstrated first with his own hand, miming holding a brush and making fluid sweeping motions, keeping his wrist loose.

It was difficult not to squeeze the brush tightly, and his first efforts showed the reason he was instructed not to: the paint was splotchy and uneven. Nothing like the other paint jobs Adam had already completed. He tried again, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated, but it wasn’t as easy as Adam made it look.

Adam smiled broadly, feeling an unexpected surge of pride in his unusual pupil. 

"Not bad, not bad!” he assured him, seeing Beetlejuice’s frown at the uneven coat. “We can just go over it again with a second layer, it’ll be fine." 

Taking Beetlejuice by the wrist, he guided the brush to the paint pot for a fresh load of paint and back to the tiny model building. 

"Nice, even strokes like this, see?” he asked, stepping a little closer, almost flush against the other man’s back as he raised and lowered the demon’s hand, painting a stripe down the side of the wall.

He didn’t mind Adam taking and guiding his hand, and didn’t even make it into something inappropriate as he concentrated on the painting. Even when he realized that Adam was basically standing against him, he was so invested in the it he didn’t made any remarks or gestures. It was nice to just be quiet a moment and see the progress he made, even if it was sloppy.

When that side of the model was done, Adam reached around to spin the lazy Susan he had set it on so they could do the next wall without having to touch it and risk smearing Beetlejuice’s handiwork. 

“See? You’re getting the hang of it!” he praised. “I’m gonna let you do this part by yourself since it’s smaller. Just take your time, don’t worry about trying to get it perfect. Okay?”

He didn’t much like the thought of that; this side was going to be much worse without Adam’s guiding hand, and he did like the gentle but firm grip that had been in his wrist. But Adam looked expectant and encouraging, nodding and smiling at him, so Beetlejuice resolved to try. He loaded the brush again, realizing immediately he’d gotten too much paint on it, but did it anyway, using the short, even stroked he’d been shown.

Adam smiled, nodding approvingly. It was a little shaky, truth be told, from Beetlejuice’s slightly unsteady hand, but was his first attempt after all, and it would be easy enough to touch up afterwards. What was really impressive was the demon himself. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Beetlejuice be so still and quiet for this long, a furrow between his brows and his tongue gripped between his lips as he focused intently. Adam’s smile widened at the realization that he was proud of the specter. 

“Nice job!” he said, and he genuinely meant it. 

Without even thinking, he leaned in and pressed a quick peck to the demon’s scruffy cheek, his own eyes widening halfway through the motion but not quickly enough to abort the gesture. It was so natural for him, the sort of thing he did all the time with Barbara and Lydia when he congratulated them that it just … happened. If not for the fact that he was dead and no longer had blood running through his veins, Adam felt sure his face would be tomato red when he pulled away, blinking at the demon like a deer caught in headlights. 

“I … um … ” he stammered lamely.

The praise startled him and made him happy. The peck on the cheek following it startled him more. Beetlejuice actually dropped the paintbrush he was holding; luckily it only fell on the lazy susan and not against anything important. Adam wore his own surprised expression, all flustered and flushed as he looked over to him. 

For once, though, he didn’t have an snarky or sexually charged comment to make. Instead, he said quietly, sincerely, “That was nice …”

He blinked dumbly and swallowed. That was certainly unexpected. Ordinarily Beetlejuice would have responded with something like _“I only do upstairs or over the pants”_ or any number of other racy jokes from his inexhaustible repertoire of lewd remarks and innuendo. So the soft spoken candor was … a pleasant surprise. Tentatively, not really sure himself just what he was trying to achieve here, Adam found himself leaning in again, watching Beetlejuice’s face for a cue as to whether or not to proceed.

Gentle hands on him, praise, a kiss, and now Adam leaning in with his head slightly cocked … Beetlejuice was frozen for a moment, stunned dumb by everything that had happened. His instinct was to grab and hold and fondle and just go hardcore, but a tiny voice from somewhere deep inside him stilled him, asked him to wait, suggested he go against all his base reactions. So he didn’t push forward, only leaned into the man’s personal space, and his slightly open mouth brushed against Adam’s, a soft press of lips on lips that was light years from the over the top theatrics he’d always ambushed him with. One hand went to Adam’s chest, but he didn’t grab or pinch. He simply left his palm flat on his chest and enjoyed the moment.

As quickly and inexplicably as it began it was over and the two men separated. Adam blinked a few times, feeling like he couldn’t catch his breath. Which was silly, of course, he didn’t breathe anymore, but still … Beetlejuice’s hand was still pressed to his chest and his head tilted down to look at it as though seeing it for the first time: the long fingers and black nails. And he wasn’t even groping at him or trying to grab his nipple through his shirt. 

He looked up, then, into the demon’s face, taking in the apprehensive set of his brow and the way he’d pulled his lips into a tight line as though he were waiting, expecting to be pushed away, for his hand to be thrown off, to be admonished or reprimanded. But Adam … just _didn’t._

“Yeah,” he agreed, swallowing again, an awkward smile that was at least half grimace pulling his mouth into some shape. “It was nice … " 

Before either of them could say or do anything further, he and Beetlejuice both jerked their heads to the attic door, where they could already hear the tell-tale thunder of Lydia’s big black boots coming up the staircase.

More nimbly than most people expected from him, Beetlejuice stepped away from Adam just as Lydia made it to the door and threw it open. 

"What’re you two doing up here?” the teen asked. “Adam, you said you’d help me with _math."_

She sighed the word dramatically, like it was a chore and a bore, which Beetlejuice totally understood. 

"Sexy wanted me to help with his model, but I am not sticking around for a _nerd fest,”_ he announced haughtily before making his way to the door too. 

It was a poor excuse, but he needed some time to process what had just happened. His poor lie was confirmed when he heard Lydia asking suspiciously, 

“You wanted him to help with your model?”, but he was too far down the stairs to hear Adam’s answer to that. He spent the rest of the day away from everyone else, replaying the events with Adam over and over in his head. It left him as jumbled hours later as it had when it happened. He wondered what Adam thought–-

_tbc …_


	2. Chapter 2

Very carefully, very quietly, Beetlejuice eased up the stairs to the attic. There was a crack under the door wide enough that he could see under it; Adam's feet were visible, near his model. There were quiet sounds of him putting a new building in place, and occasionally the man talked to himself, but the words were too muffled for Beetlejuice to understand. He shifted on his feet, making the stair tread creak, and Adam's feet turned towards the door. 

He was done sulking around and feeling confused. 

Straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair, he cleared his throat and said in a voice that he hoped sounded natural, "Hey, Sexy? You decent? I'm coming in."

Adam stood at the table, holding a plastic cup in one hand while stirring vigorously with a popsicle stick. Hearing the unmistakable sound of floorboards squealing underfoot, Adam turned, his hand going still. His first thought was that Barbara must be coming up to get something, but she and Lydia were holed up in the teen's bedroom going over flashcards for an upcoming science test. The voice that came from the other side of the door made his unnecessary breath stall in his lungs. 

"Uh, come on in!" he called pleasantly, clearing his throat when the end of his invitation got a little pinched.

Beetlejuice pushed the door open and swaggered in with the air that he owned the place and didn't have a care in the world, which was two lies. 

Now that he was here and Adam was in front of him, he was at a loss of what to say to the man. 

"Still working on that model?" 

Jesus. That was the dumbest, most asinine, borderline idiot thing he could've said. Inwardly he groaned.

Adam smiled, hoping it didn't look too strained. He quickly busied himself with his stirring so he'd have an excuse not to look the specter in the eye. It was the first time he'd been in close quarters with Beetlejuice in the . . . how long had it been since the . . . occurrence? It really was hard to keep track of time when you were dead. 

He forced a chuckle, wincing when it came out a little reedy. "Sure am! Just mixing up some asphalt. Well, not real asphalt, obviously, this is just fine grit sand and glue, but it is going to be a road when I finish!" 

He was rambling, and hopefully it was just his nerves that made him think his voice was a higher pitch than usual. 

"Did you want to . . . help again?" he heard himself ask while inside his head alarms were going off.

Fuck. He'd dug into the deepest part of himself to grab whatever courage he had to even just come up here. All he wanted to do was talk, and Adam was acting weird. Like he was worried, or didn't want him around. 

Beetlejuice wilted a little. 

"You don't need to . . . say that," he mumbled. "You don't have to pretend you want me to help--”" 

This was going just as about as well as he'd expected. He dropped his eyes to the model, so he didn't have to see the imagined look of relief on Adam's face. 

"--I'll just go," he finished. 

Just as he turned, however, his gaze found the building Adam helped him paint earlier. There was no mistaking the uneven, unsteady brush strokes he'd made. Adam hadn't painted over it! He left it like it was, and added it to his model! Slowly, Beetlejuice raised his amber eyes again. 

"You kept it," he said, in wonder.

Adam had been mentally rehearsing this conversation: what to say and do, what not to say and do but as soon as he found himself in a room with just him and Beetlejuice, all his best laid plans simply evaporated and he was left in a minor panic. Seeing the usually unflappable demon look visibly deflated was a shock, and he was just on the cusp of setting down his cup to cross the room and plant himself in Beetlejuice's path when the other man stopped all on his own, looking at the model. 

Adam's eyes widened slightly at the soft tone of genuine surprise when Beetlejuice recognized his own handiwork, permanently affixed to the model. He smiled, and this time he didn't have to force it. 

" 'Course I did," he replied. "You did a really good job, especially for your first time. Plus, now it's your model, too. You're a part of it, if you want to be." 

After a moment of silence passed between them, Adam sighed and set the cup and wooden stirrer aside. The glue would set and he'd lose the sand, but it was time to stop beating around the bush. 

"I, uh, I've actually been meaning to talk to you, Beetlejuice," he began, shoving his hands into his pants pockets simply because he couldn't think what else to do with them. "About . . . what happened before, when we were in the attic . . ." 

He trailed off, giving the specter an inviting look.

Although that was _exactly_ what he’d come up here for, Adam mentioning it, Adam admitting that he’d been thinking about it and now wanted to talk about it made him want to cut and run. This wasn’t the kind of confrontation he was used to; that tended to be more yelling and accusations and anger. This . . . this worry and fear and uncertainty was novel, and he wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle it. His feet actually started to shift, like they were ready to get him the fuck out of here, but the look on Adam’s face pinned him. 

Feeling disconnected, like someone else was piloting him, Beetlejuice heard himself say, “Y-yeah. I wanted . . . to talk about that. Too.” 

Then he didn’t know if he should ask to sit down, or move closer, or melt in embarrassment.

Adam exhaled needlessly through his nose, rocking slightly on his heels. This was . . . _uncomfortable,_ even more than he had been somewhat preparing himself for. The two of them stood in awkward silence for perhaps longer than could be simply laughed off. Beetlejuice looked ready to bolt, but he stayed where he was, shifting restlessly, his hand fussing with his jacket sleeves, his tie, his nails. 

"Why don't we, uh, sit down?" Adam finally managed to suggest, indicating the sofa that Charles and Delia had gotten for them. 

Leading the way, and hoping to burn off some of his own pent up anxious energy, Adam strode over to the couch and seated himself at one end, looking to Beetlejuice and giving the other side an inviting pat with the flat of his palm.

He'd picked loose another row of threads from the ragged sleeve of his jacket before Adam made the suggestion of sitting down. Feeling his only options were to yeet the fuck out of this attic or buck up and join the man on the couch. Channeling a little of what he'd heard Barbara call "Maitlands 2.0" he nodded tightly and sat stiffly on the other cushion of the sofa. 

Sofa? Fucking hell, this was a love seat. He'd never realized how small it was because he'd never sat on it. Adam was a slender guy but he was not, and he was consciously aware that he'd encroached on some personal space, like both cushions were designated, one for each of them. His hands were white-knuckled fists on his thighs and his shoulders started to ache from the tension. Somebody was going to have to start, right? But as much word vomit as usually poured from his mouth, words were frightened woodland creatures in his head now, hiding from him.

This was the worst. The worst! He'd never been shy before; he'd been brazen and inappropriate and over the top. But he'd never been faced with something so emotionally charged like this before either. He thought he could sit here forever; he'd had plenty of practice just doing nothing, but sooner or later someone else was going to come up to the attic and find them both here, and demand to know what was going on. 

A nauseating thought struck him: If it was _Delia,_ she'd probably make them talk about in front of her. Time to grab the bull by the horns. The tiger by the tail. The wolf by the ear. The . . . he ran out of metaphors. 

"A-adam," he said. His voice, determined to make this even more awkward, cracked. He cleared his throat and started again. "Adam. That thing. Between us. That happened. I don't . . . ? It was . . . okay? But also . . . B-Barbara and you are married?" 

Jesus. That was going to go down as the best bit of verbal poetry in history.

_tbc . . ._


	3. Chapter 3

Once again in a very short span of time, Adam found himself surprised by Beetlejuice. And not because the demon had snuck up behind him and fondled his behind with a ludicrous honking noise! Even as he had been marshalling his own thoughts, trying to figure out how best to broach the terribly tense silence and get to the heart of the matter, Beetlejuice beat him to it. His eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the unexpected forthrightness even as Beetlejuice’s voice broke at the beginning, his usual rapid-fire manner of speaking now consisting of uncertain stuttering starts and stops. 

Adam turned bodily on the sofa to better face him. 

“Well, yes, Barbara and I _are_ married,” he agreed gently, marginally aware that the hands he had folded on his thigh were twirling the wedding band around his finger. “And, yes, that _thing … ”_

He broke off a moment and cleared his own throat. He’d gone over this over and over in his head but now that the time had come to actually _speak_ the words, they seemed determined to crawl back down his throat. Clasping his hands together, he took a deep breath and dove right in. 

“What I mean is, I don’t regret what happened between us, even though I may have let myself get … carried away, and I’m sorry if it upset or confused you. I didn’t even think about it in the moment, that’s the sort of thing I usually do with Barbara or now Lydia and … I was proud of you and happy for you and I wanted to show you that." 

He smiled, knowing it would come across a little strained but hoping it would put Beetlejuice a little more at ease before he revealed the next thing. 

"And I … I did talk to Barbara about it. But she wasn’t mad! So please don’t feel like you’re in trouble, because you’re not! No one’s angry, okay?”

It was a little better now that Adam was talking and that he seemed to grasp what he’d try to convey. The ghost knew Adam kissed Barbara and Lydia when he was proud of them, he’d seen the man do it, but to be the recipient of it threw him into turmoil because no one ever treated him like that. And then, afterward, when it went further … he couldn’t wrap his head around how soft it’d been, and how willingly given. 

Before he’s grew the balls to come back up here, he’d wondered endlessly about Adam’s orientation. The fellow ghost had never given off any kind of vibe other than straight, so that added a layer of confusion to the whole situation. And he was married! To Barbara! Who kind of scared him a little bit– 

Beetlejuice’s eyes went wide as the word Barbara bounced around the inside of his skull.

_barbara_

_barbara_

_barbara_

“Holy fuck, Adam?! You told your _wife?!”_

Seeing his best effort to break the news carefully fail miserably, Adam raised his hands in a supplicating gesture. 

“Of course I did,” he said gently. “She’s my wife, Beetlejuice, I couldn’t keep something like this from her. She was … _surprised,_ to say the least. She was really, really surprised. But she wasn’t angry." 

Hoping it would ease the specter’s obvious distress, Adam decided to tell him exactly what had been said between him and Barbara. Maybe hearing the conversation for himself would reassure him where Adam’s words alone did not. 

"She asked me how it made me feel,” he said. “And … I told her that I wasn’t sure. But when I thought about it I realized that I didn’t dislike it, though maybe it went just a tad further than I was comfortable with. Which wasn’t your fault and I’m not blaming you, not at all! I’ve really only ever kissed Barbara before, she was my first girlfriend and everything so … I’d never really thought about what it might be like to kiss someone who wasn’t Barbara." 

He was beginning to ramble now, speaking faster as if trying to force the words out before he lost his nerve. 

"You and I had …” he paused to chuckle awkwardly at the memory. “Kissed before, but this … this was different. I’m not sure why I let it get that far, but I can’t say that I regret it. Although, I have to admit, I don’t know that I’d want to do it again. Which, let me say again, is _not your fault."_

He sighed deeply, fighting against the urge to cross his arms over his chest, to withdraw into his shell. He needed to remain open, Delia had told him about how body language could make other people feel either welcome or shut off and he wanted Beetlejuice to feel like he was welcome here, with him, with them. 

"What about you?” he prompted softly. “How did it make _you_ feel?”

As surprised as he’d been hearing that the missus Maitland had been informed, it was a lot of relief she hadn’t come after _him,_ demanding answers and explanations. Beetlejuice didn’t think that any excuse he would give, even, “Adam started it!” would be taken well, despite the fact it was the truth. 

He listened to Adam’s words and some of his personal life. His hands stayed in tight fists until his hands were numb, so he unclenched them and one hand went to his mouth so he could worry the thumbnail. He tried to take everything Adam said in and almost argued when he heard it wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t get a word in edgewise with how quickly the man beside him was talking. He flinched a little when he heard he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it again; it hadn’t been that bad, right? No matter what Adam said, it was common knowledge no one wanted to be with him. It shouldn’t hurt at this point, but it did. 

This was about how he’d expected the whole thing to go, anyway. 

At the softly spoken questions, pointed directly at him, however, he stopped chewing his nail for a moment. 

Here was his opportunity to make it a joke. Make it raunchy, make it rude, hide how he felt behind the exterior he’d built for just such occasions. No need for anyone to truly see him. 

But as he opened his mouth to laugh and make some depreciating comment, he looked over at Adam, and was disarmed. Adam was sitting with an expectant air. He didn’t look as worried as before; it’d been replaced with sincere interest. All the snarky, clever comments died in his throat. 

He gave a little half shrug, more a twitch of a shoulder than an actual gesture. He jerked his hand away from his mouth and whispered, “I liked it." 

He glanced up into Adam’s eyes but couldn’t hold it; in another second he looked away again. 

Even more quietly, with his voice feeling like it was sticking, he continued, "I wanted … to do it again." 

He closed his eyes completely at the end, in shame.

Adam nodded a little gravely. He had rather expected that would be the case, as Beetlejuice had self-identified himself as _"a very sexual being”._ The first time Beetlejuice had kissed him, it had been like something out of a cartoon; the charade of pretending to be his father, grabbing him and dipping him, a hard press of lips and just … shock. He’d been so exuberant, practically giddy as a toddler hopped up on sugar when he made those first overtures but they were more spontaneous, like he didn’t really know how else to express how excited he was. Like he was more interested in their reactions than the kissing itself. 

Then there was the time Adam himself had made the move, but that had been purely to distract Beetlejuice from doing any harm to Charles while Lydia’s plan was set in motion. If he were honest, Adam did still feel a little badly about how it had all happened: how they’d lied and tricked him into believing they wanted him around, playing on his obvious desire for inclusion and affection. 

After seeing his mother, just a fleeting glimpse of how Beetlejuice must’ve been treated, he’d felt even more guilty. Something occurred to him, then, a question he felt he probably knew the answer to. 

Shifting his position on the couch, leaning slightly forward into Beetlejuice’s space, his elbows propped on his knees, Adam tentatively inquired, 

“Beetlejuice, if you don’t mind me asking: before you met us and the Deetzes, when was the last time you were with someone? The last time someone … _touched_ you? Not necessarily in a sexual way, just … at all?”

He’d wanted to leave before; now with these questions he wanted to run. With Adam leaning in closer, however, with the man’s knees practically against his thigh–no, wait, one would brush against his thigh if either of them shifted even a tiny bit, he felt pinned in place. 

“Adam … that’s not _fair,”_ he whimpered.

_tbc …_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons in humanity, for someone who desperately needs it.

Adam nodded again. He was surely encroaching on some very sensitive territory, but he also wanted to fix this, to help as best he could, and to do that he was going to need some information. 

“I know,” he replied, not unsympathetically. “And if you don’t want to say, I won’t try to make you. I was just thinking about something, something that I hope might help make this better, but only if you want to tell me." 

He made another open-handed gesture, as if to show Beetlejuice that he meant no harm. 

"It’s completely your decision, but I promise I won’t think less of you one way or the other.”

He hated that Adam was being so nice. So understanding. 

“Never!” he spat, and the lights overhead that Adam didn’t need but used from habit went momentarily black with the force of his rage. _“Never, is that what you want to hear?!"_

But Adam didn’t rise to that bait. He only sat and waited quietly. The lights came back on. He didn’t even flinch at the raised, angry voice. Maitlands 2.0, indeed. He hated that Adam was interested, and seemed like he wanted to know more. And he hated it more that he couldn’t keep everything bottled inside, where it belonged. After the explosive burst that garnered no reaction, Beetlejuice wilted. He pulled his legs to his chest and tucked his forehead to his knees, making himself small. 

"There was … someone,” he whispered, his confession muffled and low. “It was a long time ago. I can’t even tell you when … you know how hard it is to tell time when it doesn’t affect you. It was so good. So … nice … I remember fingers in my hair, and being held. Sometimes I think I remember what it felt like to just hold hands. I wish I could remember more, but that’s the punishment, isn’t it? You know something happened, but details aren’t there …” His voice wavered and trailed away for a moment. “… but then J-juno found out, and … and …" 

When his voice faded again, he couldn’t pick it back up. There. Now Adam knew. And Barbara would know. And everyone. They’d know something secret about him, something he both desperately wished was still a part of his afterlife and also wished had never happened, so he wouldn’t know what he was missing. He fully expected Adam to make some excuse and leave, now. It’s been awkward before; now it was atomic levels of uncomfortable.

Adam had expected some sort of outburst, so he was able to keep himself from jumping in alarm when Beetlejuice exploded, shouting, making the lights snap on and off. He’d seen it before, and now he knew for a fact that it was purely defensive. He was probing at something the demon guarded jealously, _his heart,_ and much like an injured animal it was only natural for him to bare his teeth and raise his hackles. One of his high school friends had lived on a farm with his parents, and they kept horses. Adam remembered a quarter-horse they’d gotten who had been horrifically abused. It took them a week to get a bridle on the mare to get her to a stall in their barn. 

His suspicion confirmed, Adam frowned sadly when Beetlejuice physically curled in on himself, again much like a scared animal. 

"Beetlejuice?” he called softly, not really expecting an answer but wanting him to know that he was still there. “I’m going to touch you if that’s okay. _Is_ it okay?" 

There was a muffled sound from the specter, not quite a word he didn’t think, but it didn’t sound like a refusal either so Adam reached forward and laid a hand oh-so lightly on the demon’s knee. His entire body flinched at the contact, his fingers clenching where they were wrapped around his shins.

"Thank you, Beetlejuice,” Adam told him sincerely. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me, I know it wasn’t easy for you. And I want you to know that this stays between us, okay? We’re just two friends talking.”

Adam hadn’t left. 

Adam moved closer. 

Adam put his hand on his knee. 

Adam called him a friend. 

Now he was even more glad he hid his face, because tears sprang to his eyes. He was a wreck. He was so pathetic. A moment of being treated nicely and he was _crying?_ There was bedlam in his head, all emotions warring. He felt he should knock Adam’s hand away; the fellow ghost already admitted he didn’t want anything more to happen, so was he being a tease? Was this some kind of trick? Was this all a ruse to make him the fool? That’d happened before, when they all ganged up on him. But another, equally as strong part of him wanted more. It wanted the touch, it wanted the understanding, it wanted the companionship that Adam seemed to be offering. A quieter, third part just wanted to revel in the minor contact of someone’s hand on his knee, as if he could soak it up and keep it for later too, when he was alone again. 

With so many conflicting thoughts, he couldn’t answer verbally. He could only make some piteous keening noise. Adam shifted, and Beetlejuice just knew that _now_ he was going to leave. 

Desperately, not thinking any more but still needing the contact, he reached up and grabbed Adam’s wrist, holding him in place.

Adam found himself surprisingly calm in the face of Beetlejuice’s emotional episode. He didn’t seem able to speak, but neither had he moved away or made to dislodge Adam’s hand from his knee. Saying nothing, only offering a comforting presence while the demon worked his way through whatever turmoil was playing out in his mind, Adam found himself remembering all the little clues that Beetlejuice had dropped over the course of the time they’d known him. How eager he’d been to meet them, glomming onto them with a kind of manic desperation that had been upsetting at the time but in retrospect made it obvious how lonely he must’ve been. 

In the attic, when their haunting lesson hadn’t gone to plan, in his frustration he’d literally said it point blank: _“No one’s like me, that’s the problem!”_ Adam adjusted his position on the sofa, shifting closer, stilling when Beetlejuice’s hand seized him by the wrist as though afraid he were going to disappear. 

“It’s all right,” Adam told him gently, reaching around the back of the sofa with his other arm to clasp him by the shoulder in a firm, supportive grip. “Take as much time as you need, I’m not going anywhere.”

A tiny moan slipped passed his lips. It wasn’t sexual, just a sad little noise that gave auditory evidence to the fact he was pathetic. He didn’t want pity, but he did want more. Just the sensation of a hand on his shoulder sent a shiver through him. 

Almost unconsciously, he leaned into Adam’s hand. He hoped for more, but the nagging doubt that the other ghost was going to be done with him soon was loud in his head too. 

He tried to unpeel his fingers off Adam’s wrist, but couldn’t quite do it.

Even though he knew he was dead and therefore technically couldn’t feel pain anymore, it hurt to see Beetlejuice like this, it hurt like hell; so diminished, as if he were willing himself to be a miniscule as possible, like he would shatter into fragments if he let go of Adam’s wrist or moved from his curled position. Maybe there wasn’t really a hard lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow around, maybe he was just remembering what it felt like, but he had to keep it together. 

For Beetlejuice’s sake. 

Scooting even closer to the demon, until his own folded leg was pressed a tad uncomfortably against Beetlejuice’s ankles, still clasped tight to his body, Adam leaned in against his shins, resting his own forehead against the stripe-covered knees. Their heads were nearly touching as he moved his other arm further around the other man’s shoulders, reaching out to curl his hand around the back of his neck in a sort of one-armed hug. 

“You’re going to be okay, Beej,” he soothed in a low voice, experimenting with Lydia’s preferred nickname for her spectral friend. “I’m right here and I’ve got you.”

And now an arm over his shoulders? A _hug?_ He bit his lip hard enough to truly hurt , to keep sound in, but when Adam called him the affectionate diminutive of his name, he couldn’t contain a gaspy sob. 

Like that had broken down a barrier, Beetlejuice let himself lean heavily into Adam’s embrace. He should be grateful for this amount of contact, but he couldn’t help be greedy and slip his hand from the wrist it was holding upward, till his and Adam’s were palm and palm, their fingers entwined. He even dared to squeeze lightly, hoping it conveyed the message he wanted it to, since he couldn’t get any words out.

He ought to say something. It felt like he _needed_ to offer some words of reassurance or encouragement or, or something. Adam was out of his depth here, Barbara was always the empathetic one, the caretaker. She always knew exactly the right words, the right gestures. But, for better or worse, Barbara was downstairs quizzing Lydia on biomes and he, Adam, was sitting on the couch with a distraught demon in his arms. So he just started talking, idly rubbing his hand across the base of Beetlejuice’s neck, fingertips skritching lightly at the coarse hair at his nape while Beetlejuice laced their fingers together and held on for dear afterlife. 

“Y'know, I don’t really remember my dad,” he began. “He died when I was really young and my mom never remarried. So I didn’t really have a… strong male figure to look up to as a kid. Though I did have an uncle. He was a good enough guy, I guess. Hard on me, but he meant well. Wanted me to be strong, to be tough. He always told me that a man doesn’t cry, he keeps his chin up and keeps going no matter what. And for a long time, that’s what I tried to do, what I tried to be. But now … now I think he was wrong about that." 

He hadn’t mean to get so personal, to reveal so much, but after what Beetlejuice had told him it was only fair. Adam squeezed his hand. "Whatever my uncle said, or your mother, or anybody else, there’s nothing wrong with tears. They don’t make you weak or less. If you need to let it out, please, do.”

He wasn’t going to fall for that. He was a ghost-demon, and not breaking down sobbing even in front of Adam Maitland was his new goal in life. It took effort not to cry, but with his knees pressed into his eyes, he did a fair job. 

The fact that Adam hadn’t shaken his hand out of his grip and had actually started a soft massage on the back of his neck helped and made it worse. Beetlejuice focused instead on what the other ghost was saying; something about crying being wrong? He knew that. Everybody knew that. It’d been beaten into him–- _“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!”_ was a common and frequently carried out threat from his past that still haunted him. But Adam questioned it? Said it wasn’t? 

“What do you mean?” he sniffled, his voice still muffled behind his legs.

Adam took a moment to swallow, continuing his gentle physical ministrations as he tried to figure out how to answer Beetlejuice’s question. It was going to require a little more personal disclosure, but it if helped him then Adam considered it worth any potential embarrassment.

“Well, what’s really wrong with crying?” he replied, feeling his way through the words as he went. “I cried on my wedding day. I couldn’t help it, everything was so … perfect. Barbara looked so beautiful coming toward me down the aisle, it was the happiest I’ve ever felt and I cried. But they were happy tears, y’know?” 

Taking a useless breath, he continued. I … I cried when we died. It was … devastating, it was overwhelming. I couldn’t think what else to do so … I cried. Barbara did, too. After everything was over we came up here together and just … held each other and cried.

“People cry for lots of reasons, Beetlejuice: because we’re happy, because we’re hurt or confused or sad or even because we’re all of those things at once. And there’s nothing wrong about any of it, it’s just something we do, no different than laughing. Like a pressure release, and most of the time you’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

This was information he was going to have to chew over, when he was alone and wasn’t completely overwhelmed by both Adam’s words and hands. He nodded, even if the gesture wasn’t to convey he understood. Maybe, if he ever got the balls to revisit this conversation, he’d ask specific questions. As it was, it was hard to think when mostly what he wanted to do was suck in all the physical contact like a sponge. 

Very slowly, he uncurled himself by lifting his head and looking over at Adam. 

“Remember when we k-kissed–-” he stumbled over the word, “–-and I said it was nice?” His voice became a ghost itself, almost intangible, but he continued before Adam could answer. "This is nice too.”

Adam smiled, encouraged to see Beetlejuice opening himself up a bit more; verbally and physically. 

“It is,” he agreed, nodding as the demon sheepishly met his eyes. “When I talked with Barbara about … ” His voice faltered for a moment, so he took the time to clear his throat and steady himself. “… about our kiss, she was the one who pointed out something. People are wired to like touching each other. Of course, I can’t speak for you, but physical touch brings us comfort. It’s something we do to connect, to bond, or to reassure ourselves and one another that we’re not alone, that someone’s supporting us and has our back. Granted, though, kissing on the mouth is usually something you do with a romantic partner or significant other, not necessarily a friendly gesture –" 

He was rambling again, but he also wanted to try and get his point across before he lost his nerve completely. 

"I guess what I’m trying to say is … I still don’t think the kiss is something I’d want to do again, but I don’t regret it. _This,_ though?” He tightened his arm slightly around the demon’s shoulders, squeezing his leg where his hand was still resting, indicating their embrace. “This is the sort of thing friends do, especially when one of them is upset. We comfort each other, even if there’s really nothing we can do about whatever’s bothering them, we can be there. Does that make sense?”

More to think about. He’d never had an in-depth conversation about anything of this nature before, but everything that Adam said made sense. Slowly, he uncurled himself even more, his whole self, even though it dislodged their hands and that was a loss that made him almost grab at him to have it continue. 

But that wasn’t right. Wouldn’t be right. If his rudimentary understanding was correct, it wasn’t something he could force? Still, he liked the contact and chanced leaning into Adam. He tried so hard not to grab at the fellow ghost he tightened his hands into fists and kept his arms stiff.

Without the barrier of Beetlejuice’s shins between them, Adam’s eyes widened a bit in surprise when the specter leaned in against him. He was almost like a cat, a stray cat maybe, one that desperately wanted contact but was wary of it at the same time. Chuckling a little low in his throat, Adam shifted his grip on the other man’s shoulder and embraced him properly with both arms. 

“It’s okay if you wanna hug back, but you don’t have to,” he assured him, rubbing a hand idly up and down Beetlejuice’s back. “And in the future, if you feel like you want talk about anything or need a hug, just say the word. That’s what friends are for.”

With the permission, Beetlejuice gradually loosened the stiffness out of his arms and carefully returned the embrace. It felt odd and interesting and nice and wonderful and the best and and andandand– 

He’d have melted right then and there if a teensy bit of him wasn’t still on alert for a trick. Was that displacement he could sense someone coming up the stairs? Or was he just so paranoid he couldn’t simply enjoy this simple hug?

_tbc …_


	5. Chapter 5

After the serious conversation she had with Adam regarding their only other ghostly housemate, Barbara was admittedly worried. Not for anything changing between their marriage, no, no–but it was a growing concern for Beetlejuice. They all witnessed the exchange between the demon and his monstrous mother, Juno, and it was quite obvious that Beetlejuice was more than just … well, some _needy pervert._ She had forgiven his past transgressions with the new understanding that he had his own traumas to go through. Centuries of them, from what she could tell. So she was curious to see how Adam had handled the situation, opening the door to the attic and calling out to her husband, 

“Adam? Are you still up here? I wanted to talk to you about–” but Barbara cut herself short, surprised by the current scene before her. 

An embarrassed pink flooded her cheeks as she searched for Adam’s eyes, silently wondering if this was a bad time. Oh, she really hoped she hadn’t ruined this moment…

He'd been right, this was some sort of trap! Somehow the Maitlands had set it up so he’d be stupid and vulnerable in front of Adam, and then _Barbara_ would see it, and she scared him, she had this extra little strength when she was angry– 

Beetlejuice tried to untangle himself from the embrace, tried to get up, tried to stammer an apology as well as a snarky, “Were you raised in a barn, learn to knock!” kind of comment and ended up panicking and freezing in place instead. Caught! A deer in headlights! 

No matter what kind of happy, solid marriage they had in life or death, finding her husband locked in an embrace with him was not going to go over well.

Rather uselessly, Adam gasped when he heard the door swing open and his wife’s voice as she came into the room. Even though he was now dead, he could swear his heart gave a meaty thump of surprise in his chest when Barbara’s words trailed off into stunned silence. Beetlejuice jumped against him, rigid as stone and just as still. His thoughts whizzing through his mind at a dizzying speed, Adam met Barbara’s eyes over the specter’s shoulder, raising his eyebrows and pulling his lips into a thin line. He cut his eyes toward the demon and back to her bewildered face, willing her to understand what she was seeing. 

He didn’t drop his arms from around Beetlejuice, either, even as he felt the other ghost’s arms trembling minutely against him as he glanced frantically back and forth between the two of them as though waiting for the explosion.

Beetlejuice couldn’t see it, but he just knew any pink that might have sprouted in the roots of his hair when he was just getting relaxed with Adam wither and retreat. They were replaced with deep purples and blues, the colors of a bruise. That always felt heavy on his head. He wished he could disappear.

With wide eyes, Barbara nodded her understanding to Adam before she turned her gaze to the now changing colors of Beetlejuice’s hair. Normally a vibrant green, she observed the what she thought was pink recede while it was replaced with deep purples and blues. She also didn’t miss his shaking and the tense way he braced himself as if he were about to be struck. This broke Barbara’s heart, a spark igniting her anger at Juno. But this wasn’t the time. Her gaze softened and very slowly she made her way over to the two men, making sure to stand enough in Beej’s peripheral that he could look over to see her. She leaned over slightly, giving Adam a sweet smile before addressing Beetlejuice. 

“You guys look pretty cozy … got room for one more?” The question was timid and open; no matter the answer, she wouldn’t be mad. Still, maybe she should reinforce that. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want me too, but I certainly wouldn’t mind a hug either,” she finished with a motherly smile, hoping to comfort him instead of scare him more.

Adam flashed his wife an encouraging smile, turning his attention to the specter who had fallen deathly, uncharacteristically quiet. Beetlejuice looked positively petrified, eyes darting between the couple like a trapped animal eyeing its captors, expecting pain, and the stricken expression on his pallid face caused a twinge of deep sadness to squeeze Adam’s chest. 

Schooling his voice carefully, keeping his tone light and casual and unconcerned, he attempted to soothe the demon’s obvious unease. “Sounds great to me! The more the merrier, I always say! What about you, Beetlejuice?”

If he couldn’t run, he could be small. The self proclaimed ghost with the most shrunk back as best he could into the cushions of the couch. 

With the sounds of his own inner dialogue making a racket in his ears, it took him a moment to not only hear but understand what the couple was saying. Barbara had come closer, but she wasn’t screaming accusations or calling him names. Adam hadn’t pushed him away. 

They were … good? With this? Barbara asked for a hug? Adam agreed? 

It was a lot to process and he finally unhooked an arm around Adam. His hand went to his mouth and he habitually he chewed his thumbnail, trying to make the pieces of this puzzle fit together. The couple had a slight air of expectation, awaiting his answer. Timidly, unsure of his own voice and who exactly decided to speak, he looked up at Barbara and croaked out, 

“W-would you like to s-s-sit, sit here,” he indicated the open space beside him, “or next to Adam?”

Barbara’s smile warmed graciously at his offer and she moved over to the to open space beside him, though not sitting yet. 

“Is it okay if I sit next to you, Beetlejuice …?” she queried. 

Sure, he offered the seat, but with his clear nervousness, she wanted to make sure he knew he was in control of this situation. His choices were the one that mattered. They were there to offer him comfort and if he chose to accept, they would gladly oblige.

Although his nail was still between his teeth, he nodded quickly.

“Thank you,” she replied steadily, hoping to ease his worries by staying. She smoothed out her dress as she sat next to him, angling towards him more. Her eyes flitted over to Adam, before back to Beetlejuice. 

“Is it okay if I touch you? Can I give you a hug, too? Like Adam did … ?”

Mrs. Maitland sitting down made the cushion dip a little. She sat a little closer than he’d expected, angled so her knees were against his. It was burned into his memory that she’d almost ripped his arm out of socket, so he fretted a little, but she’d been calm and quiet so far, and that reassured him. 

And she’d asked about touching him too, just like her husband had! He filed that away for future use, because it seemed like something that people did. 

Adam still seemed comfortable, and not at all concerned he was going to grope his wife, so with that kind of encouragement, Beetlejuice took his hand out of his mouth, turned it palm side up, and held it out to Barbara.

Barbara’s smile grew at his offer, laying the back of her hand against his palm. She made no move to grab at him, instead letting him get used to her touch. He really was acting like a cornered animal and despite the strong urge to wrap him in a blanket and mother him, she knew that would only frighten him.

This was promising! It still felt so strange to see the flamboyant, borderline-manic demon looking so cowed and jittery. Adam stretched out his arm across the back of the sofa, draping it across Beetlejuice’s shoulders but curling his hand into Barbara’s hair, letting the silky strands run through his fingers. He shifted closer, sitting flush against the demon’s side. 

“You doing okay?” he gently asked the other ghost.

Her hand was smaller than her husband’s. It fit well into his hand as he closed his fingers lightly around hers. Of course, he’d have said that Adam’s hand fit well in his too. That was interesting … did everyone’s feel like that? 

Beetlejuice jumped slightly and his back stiffened as he felt the pressure of an arm settling across his shoulders. From the corner of his eye he saw the familiar gesture between the two of them: hands in hair. It must feel nice, because they both did it. Gradually he relaxed again. That was much better, and the small beginnings of a smile touched his lips.

When Adam gently played with a few strands of her hair, a lighthearted giggle bubbled up from Barbara’s throat before she met her husband’s eyes. There was immeasurable adoration held in her gaze, but she broke it to check on the demon her. 

“How are you doing, Beetlejuice?” she wondered softly, giving his hand a light squeeze before leaving her hand lax again.

“I’m … g-good,” he replied, with a soft stutter, still trying to take in having people voluntarily pressed to each side, an arm over his shoulder, and holding her hand. He wanted to catalogue it all and sear it into his memory to revisit. 

It occurred to him that maybe his answer didn’t sound sincere, so he tried again. In a stronger voice, he repeated, “I’m good. How’re you?" 

Internally he winced at his return question.

"Well, I am doing wonderful! Thank you for asking,” came her cheery response, leaning over to playfully bump her shoulder with his. 

“What about you, honey? How are you feeling?” she addressed Adam next, offering a bright smile. Beetlejuice seemed to be relaxing. That was good. Maybe this would be the start of something better for him. Something better for them all.

His wife’s sunny disposition never failed to make him smile, even in such an awkward situation as this. The sheepish demon sandwiched between them did appear to be loosening up, though the tiny stammer would indicate he was still a little unsure. 

“I’m right as rain!” Adam replied with a broad smile to the pair seated next to him, hoping to set Beetlejuice more at ease. “This is nice, isn’t it? Just sitting together, vibin’, as Delia would say." 

He punctuated the remark with a swee-ing hand gesture that was supposed to look cool but would probably have made Lydia groan and roll her eyes.

"Oh, Adam!” Barbara chastised innocently, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head at him. Despite the light admonishment, she laughed and the bright smile returned to her lips.

He’d always seen the adoration the Maitlands had for each other from a distance, but now he was caught between them and it was glorious. Just being here made him warm and he could sit here forever, he thought. He sighed and more of the tension left his shoulders.

_fin_


End file.
